


One Thing Leads to Another

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to Abbie Carmichael, one thing always leads to another.  But no one told Patrice that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing Leads to Another

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Law and Order franchise belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC universal.
> 
> A/N: Thanks goes to futureimperfect for willingly serving as a sounding board. Also, this piece stands alone, rather than relating to the Sine Qua Non series.

Patrice was walking quickly, in a hurry even though she had nowhere to be immediately. That's what New York did to her; she always felt like she was running late, like she needed to feel like she was running late. And for the most part, she had gotten used to it, had allowed herself to adjust to the mindset. And she was so set in it that afternoon that when the heel of her pump got caught in a crack in the sidewalk, she almost didn't realize it until she shoe had come almost completely off of her foot and someone stopped her from joining it with her forehead.

"Oh!" She grabbed the person, dropping her coffee, which was full and splattered all over her legs before the cup rolled to a stop against the stuck shoe. Patrice was apologizing before she looked up, trying to get to her feet while hopping so as not to put a run in her stockings. "I'm so sorry…I…"

"Looks like your shoe," the woman said, her distinct and utterly out of place drawl making Patrice stop and cock her head, which only put her even more off balance, "was determined not to get where you're goin'." She worked it out of the crack and handed it back to Patrice, who slipped it onto her foot, thankful that she felt balanced again.

"I was…" Patrice looked at the splattery puddle of coffee, which led her to focusing on the woman's face by way of her incredibly long legs. She swallowed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Well, that's never happened before. But thank you. I'm…"

"Short one cup of coffee, and maybe in too much of a hurry for another." Patrice thought she might have been making it up, but she could swear that she heard the promise of an invitation otherwise.

"No…no, I wasn't really…"

"Great. There's a better place just around the corner if you think you can make it past this chunk of sidewalk."

Patrice cocked her head, regarding the woman as if she were trying to gauge whether she was actually real. She blinked and found herself putting one foot in front of the other, following her around the corner. "Patrice LaRue…I'm Patrice LaRue."

"Abbie Carmichael. You must be a lawyer."

"What makes you say that?" Patrice caught the door as Abbie opened it and followed her into the smaller shop.

"Because that's a lawyer's coffee shop, and so is this one…but it's better." And Abbie was grinning as if she'd let Patrice in on a secret. And Patrice was willing to play along, at least in as much as she had to keep telling herself that the encounter was actually real.

"Is this your way of telling me that you're a lawyer?" Patrice asked. She looked around as they fell into the quickly moving line. "Because I see quite a few ADAs here, and…"  
"Old habits." Patrice could have sworn that Abbie was about to wink at her, but it never came, as the brunette turned to order a cup of coffee, stepping aside to let Patrice do the same, waving her off when she tried to pay. "My treat."

"Oh, well, I…"

Patrice stopped speaking when she heard a man's voice behind her. It was familiar enough a political way, and she was hoping that it wasn't just as familiar as she thought it was. She was wrong.

"Don't worry, Ms. LaRue," Jack McCoy said amusedly, "Abbie's a US attorney now; you're safe."

"Jesus Christ, Jack," Abbie said before Patrice could get a word in—something she was quickly coming to realize would be difficult around this woman, "what the hell are you doing here?" She watched as Abbie hugged the District Attorney like they were old friends, which they probably were, she realized.

"What kind of man can't get his own coffee?" Abbie was shaking her head as she laughed, and Jack McCoy was squeezing her arm as he sided to the counter. "We'll catch up later. Enjoy your evening."

"Yeah, you too…good to see you Jack."

Patrice took the opportunity to put milk in her coffee and take a breath, a deep breath. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered her, wouldn't have thrown her off—well, maybe not that off—at all, but one slightly surreal encounter after another was pushing her tolerance. But she smiled when Abbie sided to her and plucked a napkin from the holder.

"ADA turned AUSA?" She smiled as she put the lid back on her cup and tossed the stirrer into the trash.

"I worked with Jack in homicide…but that was a while back. So don't hold it against me."

There was something about the way Abbie's slow smile spread that made Patrice want to relax, to talk, to get to know the brunette better…so much so that she found herself smiling back. "How can I hold it against you when you rescue helpless defense attorneys from their own shoes and buy them coffee?"

"You know," Abbie replied, smile becoming a grin, "I think I like the way you think."

And liking the way Patrice thought, somehow—Patrice still wasn't clear on the details—led to drinks two nights later. Drinking led to flirting, which didn't surprise Patrice in the least, and she was at ease with that because she was as good at flirting as Abbie was, only with more charm and less flare.

Flirting led to making out—making out in the bar, in the corner of a booth like she was a teenager again. Patrice actually hadn't been so bold as a teenager; she also hadn't been drinking whiskey. She wasn't sure when Abbie suggested they leave, go back to her place, but she had been in every mood to accept, even if getting there led to sliding to the floor, a deck of cards and beer bottles accumulating between them.

"Well," Abbie said as she over carefully fanned her cards in her hand, "where I come from, we like high stakes."

Patrice couldn't help but laugh, which came out more like a strangled giggle, as she was trying to take a sip of her beer. "I hear where you come from they like big steaks too."

Abbie rolled her eyes and pointed at Patrice with her other hand, the one that held a half empty bottle. "That's damn clever, LaRue. Now…place your bets…name your terms. We're gonna do this right…"

As she considered, Patrice licked her lips. "I'd hate to clean you out…"

"Clean me out?" Abbie laughed. "Why don't you worry about keeping your clothes on."

Flirting that led to more drinking evidently led to strip poker, and Patrice found herself instantly all right with that. She put her cards down and reached to pluck Abbie's out of her hands, lurching a little too close than she planned. Abbie was grinning, and it was a shame because Patrice had to redirect her impromptu kiss to the brunette's cheek. She pulled away and dropped Abbie's cards into the pile and began to shuffle them together, making a bigger mess.

"Need some help there?"

"You don't get to dictate the terms and shuffle the cards," Patrice replied as she formed the deck into a neat pile and began to do a credible job of the shuffling. When she finished, Abbie's long fingers closed around hers, making Patrice stop, making her realize how much she had been concentrating on the cards. She looked up, meeting the brunette's smirk.

"My apartment…I get to deal."

It was only polite to agree, but by the time Abbie was lounging in her shirt and panties, long legs stretched out in front of her, Patrice was pretty sure that she was done being polite. She fingered the strap of her bra as she looked at her cards, not realizing that she was frowning.

"You may as well just take your bra off because you've got nothin'," Abbie said, grinning.

"What…no…" Patrice rearranged her cards, noting that the reds and blacks were blurring together a bit. Just over them, she could see Abbie's legs, which were not blurred in the least bit. "I'm just…hmm…" She bit the inside of her lip and squinted at the cards one last time before simply throwing them down between them and sweeping them into the pile of clothes as she half crawled over to Abbie to kiss her.

"Does this mean you forfeit?" Abbie asked, smirking as she wrapped her arms around Patrice.

"It means…" Patrice ran her fingers up Abbie's legs, deciding that this was definitely the better way to end the game. In fact, she couldn't see any cons for all of the pros. But she couldn't just let any good competition go. "It means we'll pick it up later."

"Where I come from…"

Patrice was only half listening as she crawled on top of Abbie, and maybe it was because she was only half listening that she was only half paying attention to what Abbie was doing. But she found herself flat on her back, Abbie straddling her with those legs that seemed even longer from that angle. "Where you come from, I'm pretty sure they don't let you do this kind of thing in public."

"I'm pretty sure," Abbie said as she wrestled Patrice's bra off after some prodding and a combination of slowed reflexes from both of them, "that they don't let anybody do in public what I'm we're 'bout to do, darlin'."

If Patrice thought she had a line, Abbie always had one to follow right behind it. She was starting to get the feeling that everyone in Texas talked like that all the time. But just then, the only line she really cared about was where the curve of Abbie's legs met her panties. She reached for them, but Abbie batted her hands away before shaking her finger at Patrice.

"You didn't win."

"I didn't lose either," Patrice countered, reaching for Abbie's shirt and meeting little resistance, save actually getting it over Abbie's head.

Abbie smirked and took off her bra, tossing it aside. "It's a draw then."

Patrice groaned and ran her hands up Abbie's torso, cupping her breasts. She could handle a draw if this was what a draw looked like. Even under her half numb fingers, Abbie's skin felt amazing, soft, warm…it was like she'd been lying in the sun instead of drinking half the night on her living room floor.

"Jesus, Patrice, you're staring at me like I've got somethin' growing out of…"

Before Abbie could finish, Patrice pulled her down and kissed her, forcing Abbie's weight against her chest as she wrapped her legs around her. She began to laugh as Abbie fought back, resulting in both of them rolling onto their sides, a tangle of legs and arms and Abbie's dark hair landing just under her nose.

"That tickles…and is cheating," she murmured as she twisted the piece of hair around her finger. Patrice let it go, watching it fall against Abbie's chest. She ran her fingertips through her own hair and drug it along Abbie's collarbones.

"No, that's cheating." She watched Abbie shiver before the brunette's fingers closed around her own. "I can't help it if gravity was in my favor there, darlin'. And you can't cheat I you don't know what game you were playing."

Patrice smirked and finally started working Abbie's panties off, pushing them down as far as she could and letting the brunette squirm the rest of the way out. "Don't give me that bullshit; there isn't a game that you don't know how to play."

"Now you're talkin'," Abbie quipped as she wrapped her legs around one of Patrice's and pressed into it, moaning unabashedly.

"Less…talking," Patrice said between kisses, "and more…mmm…"

She pulled Abbie's body against her, splaying her fingers across her back. She wondered if Abbie's lips were tingling as much as hers were, if it was the drinks or the rest. But Patrice didn't care. If Abbie wanted to talk, she'd listen, but she thought the sounds the brunette was making as she pressed her hips against her in rhythm were just as good.

"You gonna take that skirt off?"

It was like Abbie couldn't resist it, and Patrice just groaned, squirming so that the skirt that Abbie had already bunched up wound up around her waist. And that was good enough for her. Patrice pulled Abbie closer, sliding her hand between the brunette's legs and moaning.

"You're so wet…" She moaned, deciding anything more coherent was no longer necessary. It took a moment to coordinate, especially with Abbie's fingers tangling in her hair and her lips kissing down Patrice's chest, closing around her nipple, but Patrice manage to slide a finger into Abbie, then another.

"Mmm…yeah, darlin'…" Abbie murmured before moving to Patrice's other nipple, nipping it a little too hard, making Patrice flinch in surprise rather than pain. "Sssorry," she said, half moaning, half laughing as she slurred the "s," making Patrice laugh with her.

The laughter quickly turned into a moan, when Abbie pressed her own hand underneath Patrice's panties. Even drunk and half coordinated, those fingers felt better than anything Patrice had experienced in a while. And if she had known all she needed to do was nearly fall on her face on the sidewalk to end up in someone like Abbie Carmichael's arms, she might have swallowed her pride and done it on purpose earlier.

She pressed harder into Abbie, completely realizing that her rhythm wasn't so rhythmic. But Abbie was moaning, and she was squirming under the reciprocal touch. It didn't matter. She was thinking about the next morning for the first, and that didn't matter either because she knew she wasn't going to regret the morning.

But Abbie's fingers stopped, and Patrice found herself half swallowing a whimper that came out anyway. But she realized, as Abbie's body tightened around her fingers, that the brunette was arching, moaning wantonly through her climax. And when she finished, her eyelids began to droop as she blinked, Patrice presumed, to keep them open.

A look must have crossed Patrice's face because Abbie smiled lazily as she started touching her again. "Don't worry, darlin'…mmm, I'm not gonna leave you hangin'…"

"Good," she moaned, arching into Abbie's touch without hesitating to touch her own nipples. Because if Abbie fell asleep on her, Patrice was…she was starting to come more quickly than she realized it, and she moaned something incoherent even to herself as she pulled Abbie close and kissed her hard.

When she stilled, the room was still spinning, even as she took a deep breath. Patrice felt Abbie stir, realizing that she was pulling a blanket down over them as she tangled there legs even closer together. Patrice wasn't sure if she should leave, and at that point, she knew she was going to stay and deal with whatever happened when it happened. Abbie was falling asleep.

Spilled coffee that led to drinks that led to poker…led to falling asleep on a hard floor tangled in the arms of Abbie Carmichael. She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing that the rest could be the best kind of trouble.


End file.
